


The Plague Village

by DiscoMonster



Category: Stand Still Stay Silent
Genre: The Fall of the Silent World
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-07
Updated: 2016-04-07
Packaged: 2018-05-31 19:42:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6485071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DiscoMonster/pseuds/DiscoMonster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The coming of The Rash as experienced by a British Seer</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Plague Village

Apologies for the lack of characterisation, dialogue, etc. It’s an SSSS fiction set in an England I barely remember. It is told from the perspective of the British equivalent of a mage, albeit, one who’s going slightly mad.

 

I grew up in and around Alderley Edge in the North West of England. Magic is ancient and strong there due to the stones and the rock under the ground and the fertile land and climate. The magic and the magical were already there. The tunnels that people mined there attracted even more magical beings as the magic was released and as the stones were cut and the ground hollowed out. And although many were also dark beings, it was exceedingly rare that they were truly malevolent and corrupt enough to kill. And, although they were mostly indifferent to our fates, none sought the power of magic solely for themselves, none aimed to harm or dominate.

Despite being able to benefit from us humans, the magical still hid away from our technology as it weakens their talent. You must understand that we also bring them pleasure and entertainment because they can see and experience our pleasures, desires and sadness. So, despite disturbing and weakening them, we humans can be thought of as an addictive drug to The Magical. Thus, they kept open weaveways between our world and their realms. Oft times The Magical would call to us using symbols, bewitched animals or tricks of the weather, like bright sunlight or the fog and mist; and then they would lead The Predisposed – those empathetic and aware of magic – to visit places that could weave a path to magical states and knowledge. The magical found our human actions fascinating. 

The truth about the magic that the world held emanated from these magical stations between our world and theirs. It was spun in the form of stories, song and poetry – rhythm and images. But as we began to build we forgot magic as we no longer needed it, so, by the time of The Rash, we had largely forgotten how to listen and entwine with that world and were mostly unable to use magic in ours – technology finds it hard to hold to magic. 

We people had neglected the natural rhythms of the world and could only inadvertently summon magic to our causes. Yet, someone, somewhere must have remembered and rediscovered their ability for magic or a magical being learnt how to use technology. Whatever happened it combined magic and science disastrously, cataclysmically. I believe a malevolence magical being forced its will upon human beings to rid the world of them – although I don’t think we will ever know.  
The Predisposed are people who can use magic and learnt about magic in the aftermath. They developed their knowledge of magic and became magic using beings when the rash appeared. The Predisposed and some of The Magical have helped me put together what I know, what I have told you.

I am one of The Predisposed and also one of The Immune. My story begins on a trip to a cavern called the Blue John Mine that is filled with magical stones and water – the magic there allowed me my first vision. There was a good magical being in those caverns; magic that had a symbiosis with humans. I think it wanted to remain there tapping the pleasant thoughts of humans that could use magic – the unfettered joy of the school children and tourists that enjoyed the mine. The magic in the Blue John Mine did not want The Rashed of any sort making a home within the darkness – it made that much clear to me.

I had been showing the Blue John Mine to cousins from Spain when I saw visions of The Distorted in the cavern waters. Transfixed by the Magidream I saw translucent wraith beings growing irregular skeletons. I saw the reflections of those people on the other side of the ripple-free cavern pools begin to distort or wither. The distorted reflections stretched across the water to me, trying to grasp me. I stared at the faces of those who had lost their shadows to another realm. I felt their brainweaves recombining to a cacophony of discordant song and broken rhythm. Those faces were rashed, were burning hot and in pain or cold and dead. I saw the stalactites above stretch to form a mouth and drip and cough polluting droplets and fluid into the lungs of the uninfected. Then the stalactites and crystal formed into the hideous teeth and many limbs of The Distorted Giants. They swung violently at me. I vomited. I passed out. I had become a seer, I saw the likely fates of people; magic had revealed itself to me, The Rash had come into existence.

When I was sixteen, my family moved from Alderley Edge to Eyam in Hope Valley. Another abode of magic and mystery: barrows, ancient circles, force fields and magical architecture. The residents of Eyam had once isolated themselves from the world to prevent bubonic plague spreading. In fact, another name for Eyam is The Plague Village and its border stones form a protective magical island. The village had kept itself isolated for 14 months during the Bubonic plague; so we knew what to do when The Rash came. I, The Seer, knew what evil to keep out of Eyam and away from beyond the village’s borders – the pre-existing magic helped and made for an unlikely alliance.

 

Have I said this already? I forget. The stress of The Rashed World makes me forget. I am not sure of what goes on in my mind. Let me tell you what I know again – though I have no wish to rewrite. Yes… Magic had been hidden away from people because it wanted to protect us from ourselves – we had found alternative means to navigate and shape the world. The potential for evil in human beings meant Magic had to be hidden from us – if builders could wend magic and technology people would be fearsome beings. So, Magic disappeared from view. But the presence of magic takes a long time to fade and magical beings still stepped into our realm, especially those with dark lusts – lusts that might have been formed by contact with people. I suspect a line was crossed. Someone became fearsome, wrought death and life in the same being.

Alderley Edge and the caverns, hills, valleys and moors of the Peak District are seats of magic, reservoirs of spells and enchantments. Magic was still known and sung and told from generation to generation before it could die in the memory of the local folk – before the world could be truly rational and lost to Magic. There are many such Magidepths in the world. Somewhere, someone who was predisposed or a Darklust Magical Being must have sung a terrible song, woven magic into a story and then interlaced it with the viruses of body, technology and dream. Carelessly or with megalomaniacal vileness, evil was transported across all realms.

When the rash entered the incessant rains and damp and wet climate of that year, I felt it physically. It was a presence in the air, more enveloping than it had been in the caverns of The Blue John Mine. It gave me visions of its spread across the world, of people caught in a nightmare that altered physiology and mind. I believe people had already yielded to The Rash before it floated to Europe’s shores. When it arrived it went from the sea, to the beach, to the bar, to bed. But where was it before the beach?  
International hubs hurried The Rash around the world. I think I felt that somewhere out there a grieving something and someone were saying, “What is this evil that we’ve done?” Their minds seemed corrupted by something else. Maybe they acted unknowingly and were easily led…

In Eyam my father was on the local council and I had the ears of the village leaders from before day one. I predicted the events of the first two days of The Rash correctly before they happened. Yes, amazingly, I foretold the future – news broadcasts, jokes, fears, arguments and the characters involved – accurately and therefore they listened to me – my clarity of vision has since waned. On day one of the disease in the European news, Eyam lied and told the world it already had The Rash and would close its borders. Many thought it was a great publicity stunt for the tourist business. Most locals scoffed and broke the restrictions – but only initially and without harming the community. I knew that travel restrictions could only slow the spread of The Rash and buy time for those condemned to death.  
The censorship surrounding the nature of The Rash, the story of its spread and the effects it would have on the world prevented panic. but in Eyam we hurried to remake the old plague border. Given visions and words by the magic in the Blue John Mine I weaved protective spells around the village. I also developed the ability to sense those who belonged to The Immune – I had them work with me. As a village we killed vermin. We stockpiled food and goods – we prepared for an apocalypse. 

Of course, I was interviewed at the border for the local TV news and became an Internet celebrity. “Plague Village Becomes Haven for Mystic Survivalists,” they said. Our neighbours in Buxton, Sheffield, Derby and Manchester ridiculed us but only for a few days. Comedians made fun of me. Sadly, my foretelling came true – but then other more entertaining, quote-worthy and photogenic “copycat false seers” jumped on the bandwagon and appeared on the news and I was no longer in demand.

I remember the BBC in Manchester asking whether the rest of the North West should shut itself off from the rest of the world. I pointed at the vapour trails heading towards Ringway (Mancheter Airport) and said it was already too late. Instead I said the government should close down polluting industries and volatile power stations in order to help the survivors. I said the government should what it can now to help the world that comes after. I said let the people be at home with their loved ones. I said those that are immune should find a way to help their loved ones die without pain. I was considered alarmist, but soon after the deaths and the zero survival rate of those infected were confirmed. 

Hence, as the roads shut, as communications began to fail, as modern life shut down and crumpled, those that once scorned me wished us well and hoped we could stay clean. They asked if I could tell them more about their fates. The military drew up a safe area around Eyam to keep people out. I believed that we were going to be invaded by the government but it never happened. Enlightened, people within the government, protected us from military and government interference; people with the ability to use magic, who understood what was at stake despite their selfish wish to survive.  
Finally, the contagion, agony and deaths arrived, bringing weeks of death and despair, the psyche of the whole world changed. My love, Tracy – such an ordinary name for one so special – saw the Rash appear in Stockport. She told me told us how people stayed inside to avoid getting the rash but eventually they had to go out to get food and water. Once outside their homes they met others who were also scavenging, creating a new wave of infection. She said that those that didn’t stay at home went to the makeshift care centres, which couldn’t cope except by learning how to hasten death.  
There were even darker stories too, bitter people spread the disease deliberately out of malice. There were also riots – The Rash made everyone who caught it equal. There was score settling and violence. There was anarchy and apathetic despondency. But there were also reconciliations and people declaring their love. People also held End-of-the-World parties, which now seems a most reasonable and enlightened course of action because...  
The Distorted began to spread the disease to those who had managed to hold out in their homes and safe houses. As a result, some Immune walked the street looking for others to band together with. Some walked in a state of shock looking for salvation. The first clashes with The Distorted – both animals and humans – or also Onceweres, as some Immune called them, resulted in more fear and people fleeing the cities with what they could gather together. Some people were organised and thoughtful in planning their escape out of the cities. Some just fled. Fires started and spread. The cities were apparently eerie with silence that was punctuated by cries of despair and violent noise. The electric hum of the world died.  
Towards the end of the The Rash, Eyam received final communiques from medics and the military losing their sanity. They told us, they insisted: shoot to kill and burn to cleanse. I knew what they meant that had been revealed. In fact, the cities had already begun to burn out of control. The air was rancid and polluted and we suspect that much of the land in the cities is an ecological disaster area. The sky darkened and we prepared for a cold, artificially darkened winter and a tough spring and summer – a cold winter was something we instinctively wanted but not at the expense of the land and our lungs.  
After the mass dying had ended I drew images of the monsters inhabiting my dreams, visions, premonitions. I showed my villagers the misshapen horrors that would be approaching us to try and possess us. Then we added to the defences that the military had made for us: blocked roads, ditches and other earthen defences. We reinforced stone walls and rolled out barbed wire fences. We set up radio communications, although the cries of The Distorted now filled the airwaves most of the time.

The Immune and other Predisposed had also started to arrive: people and cats. Eyam’s reputation as the village in Hope Valley; the mystic’s realm that had closed its border meant it became seen as the safe haven it was. Most had come prepared with vans and lorries of guns and goods for us. Replenished by the arrival of The Immune in the village of Eyam, the villagers went out gathering more food and weapons and cats.  
The Immune told us about The Distorted they had seen, fought, killed and run from, uniting us against the enemy. We went amongst the flocks and herds and killed the diseased animals and started new herds with the survivors. The community shared fairly and equally. Eyam expanded as the world shrank.

My own world also expanded into the Otherrealm. In my Otherrealm world, I met other Predisposed, small bands of survivors in rural communities. People who had known what to do and who had banded together with The Immune. Via the Weaveway, we communicated images of what we had discovered and how we should act. 

I Magidreamt. I weaved. I communicated. Some Rash Distorted called for help and I found I could set them free by releasing them while they dreamt, in other words, I killed them. But some Distorted I had to flee or fight in my dreams. Sometimes I didn’t know which realm they were in. During my waking hours I sensed beasts coming and directed Eyam’s Immune fighters to kill them.  
We shot deer, sheep, cattle, hounds; destroyed flocks and herds. We burnt burrows, dens and warrens. Sorry, I repeat myself. I am becoming insane but Tracy helps me, calms me when the stress becomes too much and I lose myself to anxiety. She arrived and brought me herbs and roots and a vocabulary for fighting the evil in the world.

Alongside us, the cats killed vermin and small and large Rashed creatures like never before. They walked with us like never before, communicating their wariness to us. Before the truly cold weather, The Distorted started to appear on our borders in numbers, so we burnt the surrounding villages and farmhouses during the day, using enchantments to clear the fog and mist, the smoke from the smouldering and flaming cities. 

When winter was deep, I could sense some of The Distorted were dying of cold or were nested inactive. I called other Magidreamers to gather in a realm and we decided on action while we could. We decided to stay in our own areas and take back the local areas and cities in an organised methodical fashion. It sounds sensible but it was a tactical mistake – we should have banded together as one.  
But we chose to fight where we were. Firstly, we burnt all we could find around us. Eyam’s Immune looted and then razed once pretty Buxton to the ground. I sensed the town's Distorted surrendering to flames and cold. We were elated. In winter I Magidreamt further afield. Other survivor communities had also burnt down their neighbouring areas. We thought, Wales, Scotland, The Pennines most of the rural British Isles had viable communities of survivors, small towns too had pockets cleared of The Rashed. People who could use Magic invoked Celtic and Norse gods or summoned Jinn and African gods to aid them. We gave our enemies names and with that we learned to control them. We renamed the world and began to learn how to control it.

It goes without saying that we Magidreamers were disturbed by our new ability, but necessity meant we soon learnt to use our gift. We also learnt to do magic in the otherrealmworlds or we would have fallen to the dreaming Distorted. We travelled with our soul saviours: animals that could transport us back to a safe realm from a dangerous realm; they were lucid dreamers within our lucid dreams, guiding us Magidreamers to safety. In the Otherrealmworlds Often we turned into the animals our nature most resembled. For a while it looked good. We estimated that tinned food would last for years and that we would have established all we needed for a new way of life within three years.

Three years was time we didn’t have. Evil skulked out of the massive northern English cities in the spring. The Distorted shuffled, crawled, slithered, scuttled, struggled out of their first hibernation. They could sense The Predisposed. We could feel their rage and their pain. If I had known, I would have insisted that we burn Chesterfield, Stockport, Sheffield, Manchester that first winter. Of course, some parts had burnt in the uncontrolled blazes The Immune and the last of the Hazmat wearing military had set, but we still needed a directed fire and we were too few to manage several towns at once. 

The Distorted began to roam far from the towns and cities in spring. They moved at night or under grey skies. I lost contact with two Magidreamers in the smaller survivor communities. I dreamt routes around cities for those wishing to join up with us. A Magidreamer showed me that the old A6 from Stockport had become a Distorted-infested route at night. So we took the most aware cats and went along that route burning houses to clear a path. 

One day, one unusually humid spring day, when we got to the outskirts of Stockport, I became numb with fear and then I shook with panic. It appeared. It was an Amalgi – an amalgamation of several Distorted. We blasted it with our guns. In the end we had to kill each head it possessed, seven in all. We set alight any building in the vicinity that we could and left well before light faded. Every single day we fought the same battles but with different evil. They were now stalking us, they began to kill us.

We won every battle but we had begun to suffer damaging injuries and casualties, it felt like we were losing the war – we were. Trauma and stress were overwhelming us. We were surviving, we were human, we were alive but all we had was hope when we needed a plan. We needed a future. I was exhausted, we all were. Practicalities drained me, we needed to get out of Eyam before the Amalgi and The Distorted surrounded us. I had to let others take care of that vision. We settled on heading for the Isle of Man.


End file.
